


Wine Tasting

by AriRashkae



Series: Red vs Blue Bingo War 2017 [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, RvB Bingo War 2017, Team: Medic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriRashkae/pseuds/AriRashkae
Summary: For the Medic Square "A Red and a Blue dating"





	Wine Tasting

Grif looked around at the rooftop, trying and failing to hide the amused smirk. Simmons could make “trying too hard” into an art form.

It wasn’t what anyone else would call “special”, but it was all very clearly designed to cater to Grif. He spotted a 6-pack of his favorite beer, at least three different flavors of oreos, a few unlabeled boxes that probably held other favorites of his, and if the view wasn’t as close to home as they could find on Chorus, he’d eat Freckles.

“Simmons, is this supposed to be a _date_?”

The soldier in question – although maybe they were ex-soldiers now, with Chorus settling down – jumped. “Wh-what? No! No, it’s– why would you think that?”

Grif just let his smirk widen, watching Simmons flush and stammer. “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Shut up, fatass,” he snapped. “I’m trying to do something nice for you and you have to be all weird about it.”

Grif strolled forward and leaned back on the rail at the edge of the roof. “You _doing something nice_ is the weird thing.” 

“If you’re going to be an asshole about it–”

“Simmons, when am I _not_ an asshole?”

He was quiet for a moment. “ok, point. You could still be _less_ of an asshole about it.”

Grif nodded a bit. “Could. Probably won’t.”

“Fatass.”

“Kissass.”

They looked at each other and dissolved into laughter. Possibly the first genuine, not laughing-because-we’re-about-to-die laughter they’d had in years.

Simmons popped open a pair of beers – one of the few practical things Sarge had built into the robotic hand was a bottle opener inside the thumb – and passed one over. They both leaned against the rail to look out at the view.

Grif took a long swallow, sighing in pleasure and the familiar taste. “I thought you couldn’t drink.”

“I can _drink,_ ” Simmons replied. “I just can’t _get drunk_. The filters are too good. So I don’t usually bother.”

“ _Dude_. That _sucks_.” Grif shot him a look of horrified sympathy. “No wonder you didn’t bother with Donut’s ‘wine tasting.’”

“Yeah, I hear you managed to get pretty–”

 _“Dexter Grif!”_

“Speak of the Devil…,” Grif muttered. He turned back to the roof door. “What do you want, Donut?”

Donut stood silhouetted in the doorway, his hands on his hips. “I am _ashamed_ of you, Grif. What would _Sarge_ say if he could see you now?” he scolded.

Grif and Simmons looked at each other, then back to Donut. “What? Having a beer? He’d probably call me useless, lazy, the usual.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean!” Donut waved his hands frantically. “I mean you’re –” his voice dropped to a comical stage whisper “ _– fraternizing with the enemy._ ”

A quick glance around confirmed the three of them were alone on the roof. “Who are–” Simmons started.

“Can it, _Blue_!” Donut snapped. “I’m not talking to you!”

“‘Bl–’ Donut, what the fuck?!?” They stared at him. “Did you hit your head? Eat some bad mushrooms? _Something_?” Grif demanded.

“Grif, don’t you _remember_?” Donut asked plaintively. “Simmons here defected to _Blue Team_ – _again_ – back at Crash Site Bravo! And Caboose made him a _permanent_ member of _Blue Team_!” He stepped forward. “And if Sarge knew you were– were– _canoodling_ with a _Blue–”_ He cut off in a horrified gasp.

“First, the teams are bullshit and you damn well know it,” Grif said. “Second, Caboose isn’t leader of Blue Team anymore; that was just because Freckles had bugs in his code. Wash is leader now.”

The self-satisfied look on Donut’s face was downright frightening. “Yes, but Wash never rescinded Caboose’s order, did he?”

Grif felt his gut drop in the following silence. “This is about the wine tasting, isn’t it?”

Simmons buried his face in his free hand. “Grif, what did you _do?”_

“I drank the wine, Simmons. It was a _wine tasting_ so I drank the wine.”

Donut planted his hands on his hips again. “Yes, _exactly_ , Grif! It was a wine _tasting!_ Which means–”

“Please don’t sing that stupid song,” Grif muttered.

“–See, Swirl, Smell. Sip, Swish, Spit!” Donut sang. “Now, I know you usually swallow everything you put in your mouth, but you’re supposed to _spit._ ”

Grif & Simmons groaned in unison. “Damn it, Donut.” Grif rubbed one temple. “I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t know. I’ll buy some of the wine for your next tasting, ok?”

Donut nodded. “That will be acceptable. You gentlemen enjoy your evening!”

“Yeah, as soon as we go see Wash and get this bullshit straightened out,” Simmons muttered.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Donut called over his shoulder. “I stopped by to check with Wash before I came up here. He’s probably already straightened it out. Have fun, you two! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” The door clicked shut behind him.

“What exactly does that leave out?” Grif muttered. A horrible thought occurred to him. 

_“Did he just lock us up here?”_

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://arirashkae.tumblr.com/post/159450149041/wine-tasting)


End file.
